Aw Yeah

I have that total-body tired-but-sated feeling that only comes from fucking the living hell out of a bottom for an hour. There is no better feeling in the world… except spending the last twenty minutes of that fuck session right on the edge of cumming, feeling the bottom's body heat and sweet slick bodily secretions enveloping every inch of your rigid tool, which you've got buried as deep in him as it will go, looking into his handsome face, thrilled to be stuffed with meat, with his legs wrapped around yours and his arms wrapped around your back, taking everything you have to offer. That feeling just might be better. But I'm going to feel this post-fuck cell-deep satisfaction for the whole rest of the day. Knowing my cum is safe in his belly and not going anywhere-- he wanted to end by sucking the cum out of my nuts, and I was happy to lay back and oblige, soaked and breathless as I was by the end-- well, knowing he's keeping my cum inside him for good just adds that extra bit of satisfaction. It's good to be a top.

Shooting My Gun

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Open

It's been a while since Ultra Meat has come by. He told me a while back that he had started school and was crazy busy, and even his profile says he doesn't have much time. I have to admit that one of my more perverse personality traits has been awakened by this lack of attention to me: now that he is largely unavailable, I suddenly want him. Despite his amazing body and sweet disposition and genuine if inexplicable love of my dick and my schlubby body, I always pushed him to the back of potential sex partners. But he checked me out on Scruff a few days ago and reactivated his attractiveness. Today I had hoped to hook up with someone visiting from London with an amazing ass who says all the right things, but he wasn't around this afternoon like he said he'd be-- I hadn't much banked on it anyway, since he's visiting and of course would be more about be-bopping around with friends than waiting for me to tell him my genitals were available for his delectation. So after a late lunch and a ridiculously delicious scone at a coffee shop across the neighborhood, when Ultra Meat actually woofed me on Scruff, I impulsively asked, "wanna suck me?" and he said "yes" and I said "meet me at my place in 15 minutes," and I hiked over in the sudden sultry heat to get off. Because it's better to get off than to not get off, right? And there were two unexpected perks this time.

Too Much and Not Enough

My latest ejaculate just walked out the door deep inside the flawless body of a 23 year old jet-black Dominican kid-- absolutely flawless. Broad shoulders, thick arms and legs, tiny muscular waist, ass like a pair of grammar school globes, fat dick, big balls. This was quite a trophy for a middle-aged schlub like me-- and he had hit ME up on the normally useless app Jack'd, where my picture quite unashamedly shows my hairy but not very toned midsection (maybe that's why it's useless). But the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. As an insatiable lover of intense, transportive sex, I can *only* mark this down into the trophy column, something which definitely strokes my ego, I guess, but which I am not really very interested in. It was very much like spooging in a Sphinx. A red-hot, fucking stacked, sex-on-wheels Sphinx.

Today's orgasm was slow-built over the course of a hot, sweaty hour in a small bedroom in Greenpoint, with the window open and a light breeze blowing through the trees outside-- built up inside the wet mouth, against the lean body and huge thick tool of a small, slightly older dude-- built up even more intensely when said dude offered me his bare hole to receive my throbbing, stone-solid prick a few times. Just a few strokes each, half against his will, half with all the desire in the world. He had invited me up to service my meat and drink my cum. It had been a stressful day and I just wanted pleasure-- as much pleasure as I could stand, just to enjoy someone's body, to enjoy my own body, to feel sex in every cell of my flesh, every joint in my skeleton, every nerve everywhere: no cares, just sex, pleasure, sex. I went up there with my meat already swollen in my pants with the knowledge that I could have it, that all he wanted to do was suck my dick and make me cum and drink whatever I produced in my climax. How exciting to have this on offer, someone waiting to get me off. We kissed and his lips felt ample and open. And when I found the way to work his nipples just right, I knew he would give me everything, and sure enough, he did give me that taboo entry to his body, at least for a while. Just lying against him, limbs twined around each other, dick to dick, mouth to mouth, feeling that intense closeness, was a kind of heaven, and I just drank it in, sometimes stopping just to feel the closeness, hold his body, hold his ass in my hands with his legs wrapped around my waist and our groins pressed together tight. "You're very good," he said as I moved agains him, and worked my dick into his hole, and I realized then how quiet he had been. I am good. Sex is good."You have to fuck me for real sometime," he said, and I took that to mean he wasn't ready today. So I just enjoyed what I had.  I felt incredibly free with him, and he clearly did with me. But then he said something to me that I think I have never heard when on top of another guy.

Bounty

I've said it before but I must say it again, over and over again: it's so good to be a top. My looks are nothing to write home about but somehow there is a seemingly endless array of incredibly beautiful men out there willing to meet me, kiss me, suck my dick, make me cum, and swallow everything I produce, no matter how punishing the volume or saltiness. It's amazing to me. I grew up an extremely self-conscious nerd, rather funny looking, painfully uptight and shy and depressed, thinking life was somehow for other people, expecting nothing, a gay male Janice Ian song. Fast forward thirty years, when you'd think I'm past my prime with my graying chest hair and wrinkled smile, and handsome men are endlessly eager to do nothing but make me feel good. What a world! Today's load-sucker was a heart-meltingly handsome Italian guy, 32 years old, dark hair and beard, big noble nose, fine dark eyebrows and glittering deep brown eyes, and an insanely hot meaty muscled body, covered front and back with straight black hairs forming elegant patterns. Sort of a cross between Joey Fatone and the big hunky Kitchen Cousin dude that's always driving the bulldozer. And unlike most beautiful men, he gave incredible head that had me wanting to cum instantly. We were not together long, maybe 25 minutes tops, but I spent almost that entire time fighting off the urge to blow my wad and blow it hard. Which only meant that when I finally gave in-- far sooner than I wanted to, I wish I could have spent the whole day with him-- the ejaculate was huge and forceful and seemingly never-ending. Wow.

Compulsion

My latest ejaculation, released about 30 minutes ago in Fort Greene, left the totality of my past two days' semen production deposited deep in the body of a little 29-year-old latino slip of a thing, small and thin enough for me to snap in two like a pretzel stick. He was, however, laughably unlike his photos, which showed a trim but finely muscled body, along with a partner who was also small in stature but much thicker. I rarely am interested in groups but they both looked fantastic to fuck, and I instantly fantasized about having them both on all fours in front of me, going back and forth between them with tongue and prick, or eating one ass while being blown by the other. He said he was alone today, though, which made the decision easier. He was honestly much more articulate than guys who look like his pictures are-- it has to be said, the hotter the guy the stupider and more frustrating he is to communicate with, usually-- which should have been a tip off. But it is a beautiful summery day, bright and breezy, and the pictures and his easy availability instantly filled my blood with the desire to rut and spread my seed. I have work to do, and errands too, but sex…. sex is the thing I can never argue with. I never get tired of it, despite the endless sameness of much of the mechanics. Am I compulsive? And is that a good thing, or a bad thing, to be filled with desire so easily? Those thoughts were bubbling underground as I got my car keys, brushed my teeth, and rode over.